Rainbow Poem by John Rickell

Rainbow



The promise arched across the sky
no rain, but predicted,
an apology before the deluge?
Colours of the faintest hue
more an echo than a rainbow.
Billowing clouds grey and fluffy
washed in gentle pink of morning sun
tumbled dry by the cold west wind.
Will it rain today? Showers, yes.
The spectrum band so faint,
had nature lost her nerve
unsure in this tumultuous world
that the promise read in Sunday school
could not be kept?
Was I the only one to see
the message in the sky?
There was no rain that I could see
the light split red to indigo.
Would they soon converge again
let the day continue as of yesterday
or had I best put on my coat
my hat and gloves, say farewell
to summer days until next year?
There is more than meets the eye,
not a simple tale of fairies in the wood.
An echo cannot of itself combust.
Why this message in the sky?
From the west it comes, always from the west.

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